


Obsidian Skies

by orphan_account



Series: a two faced earth extravaganza [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Blind villager Choi Jongho, Dragon Jung Wooyoung, Epic, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Frog Prince Kim Hongjoong, God Kang Yeosang, Grey world, Healer Jeong Yunho, Human Sacrifice, M/M, Magic, Priest Choi San, Prince Park Seonghwa, Sacrifice, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Violence, Witch Song Mingi, but blink and you'll miss it, corrupted royals, dragon folklore, get ready for some dragon fight bitches, jongjoong, kind of, kind of a Soulmate AU, made up religion, seongsang, so much violence i'm sorry, they will each get their own story, yungi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22464340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "At the tip of the fire mountain, royals were drinking with pleasure painted on their face the most exquisite wines under the blank eyes of the disciples of the Sun, when a humongous dragon with emerald-green mixed with ruby-red obsidian scales emerged from the crater of the volcano spreading a deafening silence on the crowd, gently laying San before them and resting threatening eyes on the king. "Light doesn’t equal good and shadow doesn’t equal bad. When a prince from the earth realm infiltrates the water realm and tries to steal a powerful jewel from the sun god, the young priest San is sent to the First Kingdom with the jewel to protect it and seek help from Wooyoung without knowing who he is. Things get complicated when he’s taken to a volcano as a sacrifice for the country’s dragon god...
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: a two faced earth extravaganza [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616329
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Obsidian Skies

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i think i have A Few Things to talk about here before u start reading, more like warnings. first of all, this is a world i made up, so if anything is confusing, don't hesitate to ask me, i will gladly answer (unless it's something that's going to be explained later lmao), if you look at the end notes there's an explanation of how time works in that universe, and some other useful stuff, i think you can read the chapter without issue if you decide to ignore that explanation, but well if you're like me and get bothered by coherence. here you go
> 
> i'm going to try and post a chapter at least a month, bc while the storyline is already written, the chapters in themselves aren't, and well, all five chapters are big boys and i also have to work for uni so yeah, well. point is, expect AT LEAST a chapter a month. 
> 
> you might have noticed that this story is part of a serie, this is because when the "main" story is completed i will write three spin offs abt the side relationships bc well, i can't talk too much abt them in the woosan bc a lot is already going on.
> 
> lastly, you will notice there's a lot of action in this first chapter, there's going to be a lot of action in all the chapters, but i feel like it's a lot for a first chapter, honestly i tried to lighten it, but since this is a made up world/religion i wanted to make sure the reader had everything needed to understand perfectly the story.
> 
> i think that's all i had to say, so please enjoy!
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS : someone gets murdered, some violence, some blood, mention human sacrifice and almost human sacrifice

_The universe started with nothing more than never-ending, floating and colourful power. Then it took the form of an effervescent star, the burning gargantuan Sun that reigned alone. Bored, the Sun wanted to create more and made an infinite field of shining stars – never as bright as the first star was, but just as talkative – so for a while, the brightest star wasn’t swimming in boredom._

_But it didn’t last. The power it felt in its core was too big, too heavy and it was curious. So were born planets, similar to stars, but oh so dependent on them, and so much more vibrant. They didn’t shine and they didn’t talk a lot, but their hearts were burning hot and they started to create life as well. The other stars were too selfish, they liked to watch small celestial bodies rotate around them like a perpetual dance, they never encouraged their planets to create life, they just illuminated the black horizon._

_And the Sun watched, fond, oceans rock blue planets, angry winds yell at big ones, it watched the smallest one as well, shier, colder, slower looking back at the end of the line, maybe too scared to grow near the other biggest children. But as they orbited calmly around the sun, as the giant sparkly star was lulled by the constant noise of frivolous stars, quiet planets, protective satellites and the immense infinity talking, it noticed something strange with the fourth planet. It had created more, and in thousands of rotations around the sun, things started moving on a smaller scale._

_The Sun looked at its child painting with green and blue on its body, looked so much and so often, that it forgot about the rest of its creations to focus on the prodigy. And as the Sun failed to look at the entire universe, tragedy was bound to happen._

_There was chaos and there was pain, and the Sun watched its small child suffer, burning down to ashes before it started healing and becoming even stronger. And slowly, the gentle Earth started painting and shaping life again, with the company of its new friend the silver and tiny Moon. But the planet remained forever changed as it couldn’t dance anymore, stuck sadly facing the giant star as it turned around it, while its other half faced a constant ball of pretty constellations._

_Billions of rotations later, the Sun’s had let the delicate Earth grow and watched the universe expand with the help of the power it held in its own heart. But once again, the brightest star became curious, and after watching the small humans, the same way the never-ending colourful force took the form of a star, part of its power took the form of a man._

_A man who shook the poor Earth when he stepped a foot on its ground, a man whom humans recognized from the stories their quiet planet spread, a man whom they titled the sun god and named Yeosang. Yeosang noticed the lack of control and the disorder ruling the side of Earth that had never known a night._

_Then, he went to the side that had never known a day, ruled with calm, oceans reflecting maps of galaxies and serene creatures swimming under the moonlight. He found the highest mountain in the centre of that realm. Resting at the top of the mountain, an idea emerged from within and Yeosang – as the stories would call him – moved the earth realm to mirror the water realm. The sun god decided to give a chance to the beautiful planet he birthed, that worked hard to build itself, desiring to see it expand and thrive instead of getting drowned in chaos a second time. All this precious life, so delicate and small in the palm of his hand, needed to be protected._

_Five continents were born, all unique and full of landscapes that were a delight to the eye. For a few thousand years, all was well. Creations after creations, humans birthed from an ambitious planet, itself birthed from bored constellations, created their own lives, their own art. But Earth was an unruly child, alive and prone to tantrums. As peaceful as the water realm – where the sanctuary of sorts Yeosang made for himself rested to quietly watch over the universe – was, the realm full of landscapes was destructive, and kept on shattering the peace every time it settled upon the five kingdoms. The Sun, heart moved with pity for these living beings too weak to resist the volcanoes that ruled upon the lands, left his mountain to visit the core of his precious child to get answers about the tumults shaking human lives._

_The sun god learned a lesson that he decided to keep close to his mind: imbalance would cause destruction. If Yeosang neglected the universe to watch carefully over one child, chaos was bound to happen; if Yeosang graced only one side of planet Earth with control and power, chaos was bound to happen. The Sun was a force that could shook the cosmos with his mere presence, if Yeosang wanted to reside and watch over this infinite garden of constellations from the peaceful and never-ending nights of the water realm, the god needed to create balance._

_Five mountains stabbed through the waters, four of which encircled the highest and most impressive one; symmetrically, five volcanoes ruled over five kingdoms. Taking a bit of his core and uniting it with the small planet’s own core, the Sun for the first time ever since he made a field of shining stars and dancing planets and let them go as freely as they wanted, actively created a new form of life. Beings similar to him, in power and in role, deities he modelled to be the link between cosmos and life, bound to the planet’s core, guarding over volcanoes, satiated by sacrifices._

_Dragons. If the sun god was a colossal presence over the universe, dragon deities, lesser than the original creator, were still titanic to the fragile people who cultivated lands around these monsters said to be protectors._

_These new deities were created powerful enough to tame the volcanoes, and the volcanoes paid dragons back by assuming the role of being their Fountain of Youth. On Earth, valuable things were given in exchange of something else valuable. The volcanoes and their deities ensured protection upon the kingdoms at their feet, providing them with fertile lands, gemstones, gold, all the wealth needed to expand and flourish. But that came with a price: one life given by the core of Earth must be given back._

_Yeosang understood staring down at the universe that his creation was a constant cycle. He wondered if he stopped it, would it collapse? Attached to his subjects, he wasn’t yet bored with them, and kept them rotating, kept these billions or so cycles going._

_Dragons drawn their powers from two sources: the skies and life. Humans – life – were Earth’s creation, destined to be returned one day or another to it. The skies were the Sun’s creation, manifestations of small parts of their sculptor’s infinite and explosive power. Satiation came in two shapes: being fed with lives, every new cycle, and a bath in the stars’ lights._

_But dragons were ruling over lands that ignored starlight. Thus the sun god created a link between the deities and waters that ignored daylight. Uniting life and skies, Yeosang chose humans with hearts pure enough to please the stars and made them messengers between the cosmos and dragons. Temples were erected at the bottom of volcanoes and mountains, doors to this two faced planet, where priests were burning incense and exchanging with the universe. Temples where deities descended to revitalize their core during sleeping hours before ascending back to the top of their tame mounts…_

*

A loud noise cut San off and the child he was whispering stories to startled in his arms. “What was that?” she said sleepily, looking up – worried – to the priest. San turned his sharp eyes away from the door, not wanting to worry the young girl he was looking after and smiled down to her.

“Nothing I’m sure, you know how the High Priestess is clumsy, she probably fell,” he lied with a gentle but mischievous smirk. “Close your eyes, it’s bed time, sweetheart.”

“But I have so many questions,” pouted the small child. San laughed quietly.

“You always have more questions and more reasons to avoid sleep. One question and then it’s bed time, it’s already late.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Choose your question carefully, you won’t have another until tomorrow.”

The little girl stayed silent for a short while, a focused frown on her round and chubby face. Suddenly her big eyes widened: “If dragons come to our temples to see the stars, why haven’t I ever seen one, senior disciple San?”

He snorted softly, before beckoning her closer, a secretive look on his angular face: “Because you’re too small, smaller than their claws.” She looked up, wonder smeared on her face.

“Really? And when I’m bigger than even you, will I?”

San traced her small nose with a thin finger, “Only one question we said. Now close your eyes, maybe you will see them in your dreams.”

*

Seonghwa put a wobbly foot on the first step of the marble temple as he felt the golden sun’s eye following him from where it was carved on top of the portal. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he sighed and opened it. Was it the prospect of discovering the night sky that made his heart race and jump inside his ribcage? Or was it the fear of offending the gods with his greed?

No matter what, no matter what awaited him at the end of the line, no matter how disgraced he would be, he would do it. It was his only choice. Fear could tear his insides apart, he could not let it stop him.

He gripped with strong and calloused fingers the sword tied at his hip and stepped through the imposing and blinding portal.

For a short while, he felt like every nerves in his body were vibrating, then nothing. At first, peace. Everything was so quiet, he wondered for a moment if he was dead. Then, the echo of water drops resonated within the empty walls of the shrine.

It was a few minutes before his eyes – used to constant light – gained their sight back in this place illuminated only with torches at each corner of the room. When he looked up his breathe got lost at the bottom of his throat. Above him, no roof, only a vast and black sky with golden freckles.

Seonghwa almost lost his mind as he discovered for the first time ever what exactly was night. Coming back to his senses, he turned his dizzy eyes to the altar and slowly walked closer. Kneeling, he decided to light incense, thickening even more the musky fog floating above the altarpiece. “I am sorry.”

Steeling his heart, Seonghwa got up. He had worked on that mission, so much he knew exactly what to do next, where to go. Without having ever seen the water realm’s main temple, he knew each corridors and hiding places as if he had erected the temples himself.

The necklace was resting in a simple box, hidden at the lowest point of the building.

The temple was deserted, lulled by the sound of waves, but he felt like he was the only man to ever walk through these freezing hallways. Walking with silent steps through the intricate labyrinth, he knew where to go to avoid the priests occupying the place and communicating with the skies.

But his luck had to run out at some point. As Seonghwa finally reached the stairs leading to the treasure, he felt his back tense as he heard steps near him. He turned around to see an old priest looking at him with surprise distorting his face. “Who are you?” he asked with a voice croaking from old age. From the deep blue silk robe draped over his shoulders and the heavy chains around his neck, Seonghwa deduced the old man was one of the High Priests.

“What a pain,” Seonghwa sighed. The water realm’s people – closest to the sun god – weren’t violent, but their loyalty could not be broken. The priests of the Sun weren’t mere humans as they were given the gift of magic when they chose to get the _Priests Oaths_ tattooed on their chest: this gift was only for those worthy of their god’s trust, sealed with an unbreakable vow of loyalty.

The higher a priest reached, the more powerful their core grew. This old man would probably not kill Seonghwa but he would keep him from going further. He needed to think, and fast.

He just had to get to the jewel and give it to His Highness and get his free pass to freedom. There was never a question of hurting anyone. Seonghwa tightened his grasp around a sword and unsheathed it. He just had to knock the priest out or keep him from moving.

Rushing forward, Seonghwa aimed with the back of the sword’s handle at the man’s temple. But despite moving fast and playing on his opponent’s surprise, the priest reacted faster, pushing with his palm against Seonghwa’s chest. A shock wave froze him and he felt himself fly backward until his back hit the wall. He heard an uncomfortable crack and a throbbing pain coming from his ribcage that almost paralysed him. Yet, he got back up with the iron taste of blood pooling in his mouth. With the commotion it caused, more people would come soon. Desperation eased his pain and feelings.

With a renewed confidence and expert moves, Seonghwa threw himself at the priest once again, even faster than before, not hesitating once and this time aimed at the back of the old man’s knees. As he was expected at the front, he twirled last moment and struck with his blade, cutting through the tendons. The man collapsed and Seonghwa stayed motionless for a moment, out-of-breathe.

As his senses were coming back to him, breathing started to be painful. He had to finish this. But when he was about to continue a firm grip around his ankles tripped him and he fell down, hard. Seonghwa choked down an agonising scream.

Determined, the priest crawled on top of him. Seonghwa lost his sword during the fall and the man wrapped strong hands around his wrist. Soon, noises came from a few corridors away and Seonghwa struggled, as desperate as a trapped dog. His ribs hurt so much, he felt like going insane. Stretching his fingers, he tried to reach the handle of his sword.

“Stop that, there is no way out, you still can hope to be forgiven if you stop now,” the priest almost begged with a benevolent look on his face. Seonghwa choked on tears – from pain or from guilt he wouldn’t know – and struggled harder.

When he finally reached his weapon, he gritted his teeth and broke his wrists free from the priest. Pushed by adrenaline, he managed to knock them over. On top of the priest, he just had a second to see pity in the old man’s eyes before he stabbed through his chest.

With a shaky breathe and bloody hands, Seonghwa felt nauseous as he removed his sword from the old priest’s chest, staring into the dead man’s dull eyes. He felt like puking his heart and lungs. Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter with his soaked fingers, a deafening buzz in his ears, he felt cold sweat dripping down his neck. Could he ever forget the wet noise of blood dripping down from the blade to the ground?

With heavy legs, he eventually made his way downstairs, missing steps here and there.

The room – more of a cave – was mostly empty. The walls were made of the same rock that founded the mountain, untouched and unchanged by human hands, humid, grey, covered in moss. The stairs – more and more slippery as he descended into the cave – led to a pool of water. There was only one small stone plate in the middle of the pool, seemingly floating a few centimetres above the water, where a wooden chest rested. It was there. Freedom and answers were there, inside the chest.

Seonghwa looked down to the clear water, so clear it reflected on the walls, despite the lack of any lights. He had to swim to get to the necklace, but from what he knew of the sun god, he was a meticulous being. A jewel which could guarantee power over the earth realm could not be so easy to access.

While he was wondering what sort of creatures and monsters swam in these waters, a voice echoed within the walls of the cave. “There are no guards in the pool,” it whispered. Seonghwa jumped, startled, and looked up. Sitting on an invisible throne, there was a man. He trembled. A man who sported a sardonic smirk on his face. “No guards, only prisoners.” The sun god laughed.

He looked imperious. Seonghwa forced himself not to choke and throw his body on the ground and bow down to the image of Yeosang. Instead he gritted his teeth and stared straight into the god’s eyes. “Well, there isn’t prisoners yet, but you could jump in and become the first.”

Ignoring the god, Seonghwa turned his eyes back to the chest to see it opened. The necklace inside was impressively crafted. Made of gold and gemstones, he could see a representation of the Sun’s court, a delicate chain from which were hanging planets, stars and satellites, in colourful diamonds. But as beautiful as the necklace was, its impressiveness didn’t come from its craftsmanship. It came from the sheer power that emanated from it, blinding, dangerous.

“Aren’t you jumping? Well, time’s up!” Yeosang made a quick gesture with his hand and the jewel flew to his hand, barely looking at it. “Um...” he suddenly looked deep in thoughts while trailing his eyes down Seonghwa’s figure, grimacing at his bloody hands and sword. “Pretty face, should I keep you? Would that annoy this king of yours who thinks himself worthy of overtaking me?”

The last thing Seonghwa processed was the feeling of drowning.

*

When San made sure the little girl was sound and asleep, he got out of the bedroom and entered chaos. Young priests and priestesses were anxiously looking at each others and trying to understand what exactly was going on.

The young man fidgeted with his sleeves and made his way through the hallway, smiling with the most comforting smile he could show to the younger disciples. He made his way to the main hall, where all the elders were reunited near the altar, debating loudly. As soon as they heard his steps though, they all turned their hawk eyes towards him. “Oh, disciple San, we were going to ask for you, come over here,” said the Light-Bearing High Priestess. Definitely his favourite elder, a clumsy woman whose hair were always a mess, contrasting greatly with the refined looks of her peers.

“How may I be of help, elders?” he asked bowing politely, then got closer, trying to get a better look at the chest they were gathered around. “What is happening?”

“Listen my child, you will have to listen to me and do as we say, and not panic,” one of them told him. He remembered the man as the one who engraved the _Oaths_ on his chest. “The Lucky-Star High Priest was killed.”

San’s eyes widened and his heart tightened. As much as the words were painful to hear, he suddenly felt like lost in a dream. This elder had brought him up, taught him everything he knew, shaped him into the disciple he became.

He once said San was his biggest pride. He gritted his teeth and tried to focus on what he was being told. Emotions were not the priority at the moment.

“Why..? How..?” San asked with a thick voice.

“There was an infiltration,” San’s eyes widened with disbelief. “The first King sent one of the Princes to rob the _Celestial Jewel_.”

“How presumptuous,” snorted the High Priestess. “What is worrisome is that the Prince knew without mistake where it was.”

“Meaning there’s a spy amongst us...” realized San, shocked.

“Disciple San, have you ever left this temple before?” suddenly asked a quiet, mean looking elder, the Silent Hall’s Master.

“Huh? No, no yet. My first outing has been scheduled in seven lunar rotations. The Lucky-Star elder promised me...” he cut himself off, overwhelmed with emotions.

“What are you trying to imply, Master?” said with an inexplicable frown the High Priestess.

“Well his brother... it is hard not to be suspicious in these times,” he replied as San was staring confused at his two elders glaring at each other.

“My brother?” his voice cracked halfway through his words. San grew up resigned to forget any hope of ever seeing the faces of his family ever again. The disciples of the Sun were who he learned to see as family. “How is Prince Seonghwa involved?” he asked. Did he have any right to call his brother a brother when they were strangers?

“Master of the Silent Hall, the Prince has never expressed interest in his brother,” San gritted his teeth, his fingers still fidgeting under his silky sleeves. “Please don’t involve this disciple when the Sun himself chose him.”

Wait, what now?

The elder quieted his accusatory words down with a closed off expression. San was lost, not knowing whether to laugh or to cry.

“Please elders, what is going on exactly?” he almost begged for answers to his thousand questions.

“Your first visit to the earth realm has been brought forward to now,” a booming voice replied from the room’s entrance. San turned around and immediately bowed to the sun god.

“Greetings Lord of the Universe,” they all said in unison, their heads down.

“Rise,” Yeosang allowed the room before laying his black eyes – oh so similar to the skies above them – on San. “Huh, I see it runs in the family genes.” He smiled. “You will take this jewel to the first kingdom.” San frowned – more and more confused – while all ten elders in the room spluttered. A few voices could be heard, protesting: “But it’s his brother”, “the king is dangerous”, “Is that really safe?”.

Yeosang let them talk as he quietly made his way to the chest. San didn’t know where his mind went, but he felt like he was watching things happen as a spectator instead of a protagonist. Putting a palm on top of the wooden box, Yeosang looked back to this small crowd of followers who immediately quieted down.

“The place they will never come looking for it is the closest to them.” He then gestured to San to come closer. Still feeling like he had no control over his body and mind – or the entire situation, really – San stalked forward. Yeosang opened the box when San was standing in the middle of the circle of elders, in front of the god. Under their eyes, the dazzling necklace appeared, handled by the god, with not so much care despite its beauty. A carefully weaved pouch appeared in Yeosang’s other hand, in which he dropped the universe’s treasure.

“I made it to control over the dragon deities in case they got greedy with power, instead humans disappointed me first. Oh, well,” San swore he saw a pout on Yeosang’s face while he was contemplating the pouch. “As the eldest disciple, San has been chosen to take this to Wooyoung, in the first kingdom.” Yeosang smiled at San, and the disciple felt a rock drop in his stomach: why was the god looking at him with anticipation glinting in his eyes?

San was sent to a small house at the edge of the forest encircling the first kingdom’s capital. He had yet to see the golden country as it was called after the huge bottomless gold mines that made this kingdom one of the richest of the realm. San was shaking with anxiety as he felt hidden against his chest the pouch’s embroideries.

The young priest was feeling a little weak after the very short trip from the water to the earth realm. They usually travelled from a realm to another with portals that connected all the temples dedicated the Sun, but Yeosang deemed it too risky and with a snap of fingers, San blinked and before him there was this wooden house and no signs of his god, elders or home.

In this small cottage lived apparently a human Yeosang trusted even though he was no priest. San made his way to the house’s door, running a hand through his hair, his eyes burning with fatigue, unused to the strange brightness of the sun in its primary form. He knocked once, softly. No answers. It was only the third time he knocked, a little harder, and asking loudly if anyone was home that he heard shuffling inside. He backed away a few steps when the door opened, startling even if he expected it.

“Who’s there?” asked a round faced stocky man with bed hair adorning his head. San immediately noticed him looking straight away, just a little above his own head, with unfocused eyes.

“Um, are you Jongho?” San asked with a timid voice.

“Who’s asking? During sleeping hours at that?”

“I am San, a priest from the water realm, I was sent here by the universe’s Lord!” the priest answered quickly, while the blind man frowned. A frog suddenly hopped on his shoulder and he flinched.

“I see.” Jongho turned around and went back inside his house, and San for a second didn’t know what to do, frozen at the door looking down to the frog sitting on his shoulder.

“Who are you?” he whispered to it and only got an ugly croak for an answer.

“Are you coming or will you sleep on the porch?” asked Jongho from somewhere San couldn’t see and with quick and nervous steps he eventually followed the human, closing the door behind him.

“I have a frog on my shoulder...?”

“Ah, yes, that’s Hongjoong!”

“Hongjoong...? You have a pet frog?”

At that Jongho came back from what San assumed to be the kitchen and went to another room – in which he followed him – a plate with a set of tea in his hands. “Of course it’s not my pet frog. This is the southern kingdom’s Prince.”

San blinked. Was this man crazy? Had he been sent into the house of someone who clearly didn’t have all his head? He figured it was better to stay silent.

“We’re waiting for Mingi, this stupid witch,” continued Jongho, serving tea while San watched a little fascinated as the young man moved with expertise despite his blindness. “Ah, sit down, but not on the armchair, that’s Hongjoong’s favourite spot.” San looked down at the frog which was already looking up at him, almost defiant. Intimidated by this incredibly small frog, he obediently sat on the couch and Hongjoong jumped on the armchair’s cushion.

“And who’s Mingi?”

Jongho paused briefly, before taking a cup in his hand and giving it to San who quietly thanked him. “An evil witch, he gets drunk and transforms people into all sorts of stuff,” he pointed a finger at the frog. “And then leave for another couple of month, if not years on adventures!” Jongho took his own cup and started sipping it, not flinching at all at the hot beverage when San could barely stand its heat in his hands. “So why did Yeosang take you here? What happened this time?”

“Does the Sun send you a lot of people?”

“Huh? Ah, no, not really.” San blinked, staring at Jongho who kept on sipping on his tea, and then glanced at Hongjoong who was again already looking back at him with his judgmental little eyes. “So why are you here?” asked Jongho again.

“I have something to deliver to some guy? Wooyoung?”

“Wooyoung?”

“Wooyoung yes, do you know who he is?” San was hopeful, because he himself had no idea who this “Wooyoung” could be.

“I do.”

San waited a few seconds for Jongho to continue and elaborate, but understood quickly enough that he would not get any more. “So...? Who is he?” San tried to remember the fundamental values he was taught to have as a disciple: patience, benevolence and composure. But a raging flame lived in his heart as he felt this lunar rotation to be more and more absurd.

“A deity.” San who just took a sip of his tea choked on it, feeling a drop run on his chin.

“A what? A deity?” He stuttered, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in his hairline. “And how am I supposed to deliver a package to a deity without getting noticed? I haven’t even started my training, i just took the oaths, my core is probably the size of a chickpea!” San gripped Jongho’s thigh in his panic, speaking with a high pitched voice. “My master just died and I have no one to teach me how to grow my core, and oh Sun, my master was killed by my brother,” his voice cracked mid-sentence and tears suddenly started pooling in his eyes as he realized what had happened earlier.

It was like a fever dream, three hours at most passed since he left the young girl he was reading to but it already felt so far away. He felt like just three hours ago everything was okay and then the whole universe just stopped spinning in its axis.

Jongho turned slightly to face him but San didn’t see him anymore. He hiccuped and tears started to fall on his cheeks, his heart tightening so hard in his chest he could not breath anymore. Taking a hand against his chest, he grasped at the blue robes covering him. Emotions suddenly drowned him as they hit him with the same power as the tsunamis shaking the horizons of the water realm’s oceans.

The reality of the situation dawned onto him. He would never see the Lucky-Star Master ever again, they would never spend hours drinking tea and reading to each other. His teacher would never correct his calligraphy, teach him about the underwater creatures or recount the legends of their world again. San suddenly felt like there was a gaping hole inside of him. And his brother, why? Why would he do that, who had he become during all these years?

He sobbed, feeling like a small child, a completely abandoned child. Fear and anxiety blurred out any rational thoughts in his brain. He was always conscious of how small he was in this world and suddenly felt like the god he had grown worshipping threw him in an angry sea with nothing but a broken lifebelt to help him, expecting of San to be bigger than he was.

He flinched as he felt a hand softly rubbing between his shoulder blades and the feeling of a fist gripping and tightening around his heart lifted like a charm; he suddenly and inexplicably calmed down. San’s cheeks were burning red with the remnants of tears and he looked up to see Jongho and his unseeing eyes hovering above him with a sympathetic smile, while he tried to regain control of his lungs.

“Ah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he said with a contrite look on his face.

“What was that?” San asked, in a broken voice, relieved at the feeling of oxygen filling his lungs. He took a tissue from his sleeve, his heart slightly squeezing in his chest again as he traced the embroidered constellation on the tissue he had been offered by his master and wiped his cheeks with it with a shaky hand, revelling in the warmth of the brief memory of a birthday quietly celebrated with encouraging words.

“Just something small I can do,” Jongho replied, moving aside to put some space back between them.

“Are you not human?”

“Oh? Yes, I am. My mother wasn’t, though.”

San nodded, suddenly embarrassed by his show of emotions that submerged him as fast as it was put to a stop. “I’m sorry about...” he vaguely gestured, remembering last second Jongho could not see him and felt his cheek warming up. Hongjoong hopped on his knee, an understanding look in his weirdly expressive eyes.

“Panicking? Do not worry,” Jongho replied softly, taking the forgotten cup in San’s hands, getting up to empty it in a potted plant under San’s baffled eyes, and then going to a shelf not far and filling it again with a purple beverage. When he gave the cup back to San, the priest blinked at it.

“What is this?”

“Yunho made it, it’s plants. And some other things. It will ease the ache in your heart.”

San looked at it with a suspicious frown. When the frog nudged his hand with his head, like an encouragement he eventually brought it to his lips. The purple liquid tasted surprisingly sweet, like cinnamon and roses. For a few minutes then there was just silence where San felt himself getting numb as he forgot about the emotions twisting his insides, before Jongho softly spoke out.

“I can help you with the mission, if you trust me,” he said, folding his hands on his lap, leaning forward, like he was ready to share a secret.

“Do I have any choice? The sun god trusts you...” Jongho smiled.

“I know you’re a priest, but you should not trust Yeosang,” he laughed. “I know how to get you to Wooyoung without raising suspicions.”

San arched his eyebrows. “You do? How?”

“You have to be sacrificed to the volcano.” San almost dropped his cup.

“What?”

“Ah, but you won’t really be sacrificed. Wooyoung won’t let you when he feels the jewel.”

San opened his eyes so wide they almost fell out his eye-sockets. “How do you know?”

“It’s easy to know when you learn how to recognize Yeosang’s presence.”

“And how do I get sacrificed to the volcano?”

“Oh, this is the easiest part, actually,” Jongho only replied with an ominous smile. San swallowed, apprehensive.

They had to wait half a lunar cycle before putting Jongho’s plan in action.

San was out of the delicate layers of rich fabrics he was used to wear at the temple, Jongho having carefully folded his robes hidden in a place free of dust and humidity and instead lent the disciple incredibly itchy, muddy brown clothes made to work on fields. San realized how used he was to being coveted, that his smooth skin was bright red at the beginning of sleeping hours when he got out of these clothes, from rubbing against rough textures.

San made his way through the crowds of the market, watching with wonder the red, yellow and blue lanterns hanging from the small houses. The capital was a pretty city, full of colours, buzzing with the noise of commoners loudly calling for customers and rich noblemen quoting poetry to the delicate beauties hanging at their arms while walking around the busy streets. San looked enviously at the candies a young maiden slipped between the hands of the small courtesan walking by her side.

Jongho had said today was the perfect day to cause havoc in the capital and get noticed. The golden festival – which happened at the midst of every lunar cycle – celebrated the dragon deity who protected the Centre Kingdom and the wealth the gold mines laying under their feet brought them. It was the moment in which the royal guards chose in the crowd who to sacrifice to the volcano, from what Yunho had told them.

Yunho, a tall and soft man, he had the pleasure to meet during this past half cycle and learn he was a healer who liked to tend to the people’s need, in his country or in other kingdoms, and was particularly favoured by the royal family. The healer wasn’t one to chose sides, at no one’s service but his own, but like Jongho he liked to help the sun god – if he judged the goal in line with his own beliefs. He easily enough agreed to help him by revealing that the sacrificed was chosen amongst rebels – usually during the festivals, where they were most likely to disturb the crowds.

The Sun’s disciple finally arrived at the capital’s main square, were clowns and musicians were entertaining the people clapping around them or lazily sitting at the terrace of the luxurious inns and courtesan houses encircling the square. From where he was, San could see better the peak of the gigantic volcano just a few kilometres away, surrounded with the tall golden royal palace – which looked so exquisite, he could almost smell the odours of rare flowers and see the taste with which each pavilions were built – and the sophisticated ebony temple that mirrored the one he grew up in.

Rubbing his knuckles against his forearm, uncomfortable in his hessian clothes, he kneeled dipping a hand in the dirty mud at this feet, smearing it on his face and ruffling his hair. He needed to look like trash and move the crowd by showing a side of the kingdom that was not as prosperous as the capital. He did not know of poverty, but Jongho told him about the small villages scattered in the forest and even after, full of miserable people who ruined their health at the service of a king greedy for wealth. The king, despite a gracious facade he presented to his court, was never as tempestuous as when he noticed the smallest sign of disturbance and rebellion upon the kingdom he bragged as the most peaceful of the earth realm.

When San spotted the royal guards at the entrance of one of the inns and two others watching over the capital from the highest terrace of the inn; _oh so this is where the royal family is dining right now..._ priest thought. Perfect, this made it easier.

The plan was such: San was supposed to stir the crowd by denouncing the unfairness of the Centre Kingdom, claiming to be a mine worker who lost his family because of the negligence of the king. The guards would immediately try to stop him and get rid of him, with the annual sacrifice coming in three lunar rotations, he would surely be chosen.

Taking a deep breath, he jumped in the middle of the circle of spectators, interrupting the clowns in their scene of mockery of the deceased northern dragon, depicting her as a greedy monster. The tambourines stopped while the people ceased to applaud, watching with confusion the dirty man who stopped the festivities. From the corner of his eyes, he immediately noticed the guard staring straight at him, watching his every movements.

He dropped on his knees, landing harshly on the ground and with the most heart-wrenching cries he could manage: “People of the capital, please I beg of you to look at me and listen to my pleads! Please, listen to my unfair situation, I’m just a simple man who watched his family die at the hands of this phony king you are all bowing to and laughing with!”

San heard a few gasps from the spectators, noblemen looking away with disgust smeared on their faces, children hiding behind their mother’s skirts, while some other were looking down on him with pity shining in their sorry eyes. He noticed the guards on the terrace sending a quick sign with their heads to the ones standing at the inn’s entrance. “The royals are assassins! We work all our lives to bring you wealth, and we get paid off with illnesses that are killing us all in our sleep! When will the remaining of my family, when will I die like a dog because all of you assassins turn a blind eye on us!”

A foot landed on his back and he fell forward with a wince. “Assassins! Murderers!” he yelled repeatedly while the guard were handling him down. He struggled for the show but did not make any efforts to get away when the guard crushing him down tied his hands. San continued to scream while they were dragging him away, noticing hiding in hidden corner Jongho with Hongjoong the frog on his shoulder. When he looked up at the edge of the terrace was standing the king looking at him in all his glory, red and tick shiny layers of silk draped over his shoulders, a golden dragon weaved on his chest and a twitch at the corner of his thin mouth. _Success_.

For three lunar rotations, San was left alone in a humid and cold cell after being thrown there without a word from the guards. He had cowered a little at the laughter of other prisoners seeing this newcomer relieving them of the burden of being the next sacrifice.

Hidden against his chest was the elegant pouch with the necklace, which he felt vibrating with power, even though the pouch did conceal most of it. Waiting for the sacrifice, he stayed in a corner of his cell, back straight, fighting hunger and boredom by meditating and reciting in his head his temple’s principles and odes written by scholars to the Sun.

The time finally came with the rough fist of royal guards dragging him up and pushing him through the underground prisons. Pain stabbed through his skull as they reached the entrance and day blinded him after this many lunar rotations spent in darkness. Two priestesses were waiting a few steps away and the guards unceremoniously threw him before them and left, leaving him at their hands. San bit his lips at the sting of his raw, bloody palms and knees after being thrown around so much. One of the priestess helped him up with soft touches and San sighed at the feeling of gentleness he hadn’t even noticed he had been missing ever since he got sent away to the earth realm.

“Elders,” San bowed with respect, and the two priestesses slightly recoiled with surprise. “Please lead me to the temple I will explain, do not raise suspicions.”

They did so, each a hand on his shoulders. The disciples of this temple stood with the same postures as the ones San had been used to see all his life, but their clothes were brighter, stark white, weaved with golden threads and their forehead ornamented with gemstones but neck bare, while the priests of his temple were usually dressed with simple dark blue silks and silver laces, head and hair bare of accessories but necks decorated with pearls.

San was taken to a room behind the main hall where – no words ushered yet – he was undressed and put in a warm bath. He eventually opened his mouth after the two priestesses backed away when San refused to let them wash him, to do it himself. They looked at him with curiosity barely concealed in their pupils, eyes travelling between the oaths tattooed on his chest and the pouch carefully laying on a small table at the center of the room.

“I have been sent here to deliver this to the ruling dragon Wooyoung, by the Brightest Star,” he begun while the smallest of the two priestesses – a pink faced young girl – gasped and the other one – taller, tanner and colder looking girl – nudged her with her elbow. “I cannot raise suspicions as your king attacked the main temple of the water realm.”

“What?” gasped this time both priestesses.

“I need to be the next sacrifice to talk to Wooyoung,” San ended.

“But, water realm people can’t be sacrificed!” exclaimed the smallest with a worried frown. “You took the oaths, which means your core is too similar to the stars for the volcano!”

“Oh no, do not worry, I am not really sacrificing myself,” smiled San gently, feeling he was back at the side of the kids he liked to take care of. “This object I’m delivering is too precious, the ruling dragon will have to keep me alive.”

He got up and the tallest priestess immediately came closer with a clothe in her long fingers for him to dry his body. He felt lighter now that all the dirt covering his skin had been cleaned off and the peculiar scent of flowers emanated from him.

San let himself be led through the ritual and the sacrifice ceremony, not knowing what to expect. After he had been covered with linen robes, way lighter than all the layers he was used to, bare of extravagance – no head piece, no jewel around his throat – the two young priestesses took him in front of the altar, where incense was burning along with offerings. The clothes he had been given were too light to hide the pouch, so he gave it to the tall priestess who hid it in his sleeve, ready to give it back when the right time would come.

He stood barefoot in the hall, the sole of his feet numb against cold tiles and the tip of his toes rubbing against a cushion. The royals and noblemen were sitting inside the temple on their own cushion behind him, and he could hear the noise of the capital reunited at the bottom of the building. San lied bent down in a full bow, feeling like a tiny mouse being watched by predatory and colourful birds, even though the two priestesses were at his side, also folded in a bow. The High Priest, an old bear looking man, stood before him.

He recited all the mantras, prayed to the Sun and softly poured a river of water sparkled with sunflower petals on his head and back. San shivered, feeling the liquid soak the linen clothes, starting to stick to his skin, and the humiliation that came with white fabric becoming transparent, taking the same golden colour as his skin. Nudity in front of his peers didn’t make him feel ashamed, but the heavy sensation of all his weaknesses being revealed to men smiling at a ritual celebrating his imminent death made him shake.

The whole ceremony went in a blur as San let himself be manipulated through it, trying to ignore how wrong it felt in his core to offer humans who did no wrong but ask for fairness to an angry lava boiling inside monstrous mountains. The young disciple tried to shut the primal instinct in his insides that yelled at him to struggle, and gritted his teeth. He could feel the king burning holes in the back of his head.

*

When Seonghwa opened his eyes, he was suddenly submerged with the impression that his whole body was tied. Mind foggy he tried to move, without success. He internally winced when he heard somewhere in the room the strident grinding noise of steel. Where was he? What happened to him?

Looking around despite the room being blurry, he noticed a few things: he was in a luxurious place, with walls covered in rare artefacts he had heard of but never seen even in the treasure room of the palace of the richest kingdom, the yellow light was subdued and the room steeped in reds and tans looked warm but was freezing cold. So cold it felt like his bones were ice inside his skin, so cold his every joints were ankylotic. But what stroke him the most was the frightening impression that he was minuscule, like he had woken up in a giant’s house.

Seonghwa was inexplicably sitting in the middle of a chess set, staring straight at a white knight.

“I see you’ve come back to Earth,” declared a voice he immediately recognised and instantly dreaded. Seonghwa turned his head to see Yeosang sprawled on an ebony cathedra, smirking down at him, Seonghwa’s lost sword between his hands.

The god ran a nail against the blade and the same unnerving grinding echoed in the room, creating a spark and Seonghwa curled up on himself.

“You’re confused and scared, it’s a very good smell on you,” Yeosang said, chuckling. He stopped playing with the sword, setting it aside carelessly, and extended a hand, making a small silver pocket mirror and put it opened, on the edge of the chessboard. Seonghwa looked up at the god, then at the mirror, catching a glimpse of white scales and a long tail. Lowering his head, eyes at his body’s level, he realized these white scales were _his_. He opened his mouth to gasp, but only a small and weak hiss accompanied of a tongue flick came out. Seonghwa shriveled up even more, making himself smaller than he could possibly get.

His entire body was trapped inside a snake skin. It felt like like cold, rusty chains were wrapped around him, tightening at each one of his moves. The prince was scared, he felt at the mercy of a predator, without anything to fend it off.

It was another failure. He would’ve preferred for the god to punish him by death than making him face the reality of the situation: he missed his last hope of ever finding answers or freedom. And now, the only thing Seonghwa had left was the weight of his own guilt.

“What could push a prince to devote himself to such a useless mission? Is the palace so boring you have decided to jump to your death?” Yeosang asked, mocking him. “The Northern Kingdom truly is cursed to have poor lineage.” It may have been because of the loss of hope, the knowledge he had nothing to lose anymore, the awareness he wouldn’t come out of this alive no matter what the future held for him, that Seonghwa – overcame with rage – jumped to the Sun’s throat, slithering his body around it and squeezing with all his strength. But despite the choke-hold Yeosang was into, he only softly laughed at the naive attack and gripped Seonghwa just under his snake skull, so tight he had no choice but to let go of the god’s neck at risk of having his body crushed to dust in this delicate but powerful fist. Yeosang restrained Seonghwa at an arm’s length, watching him with an eyebrow raised, scrutinizing the snake with his deep night sky eyes and golden pupils. Seonghwa didn’t feel the pain from the grip, it was sweltering power that emanated from the fingers digging into his thin scales that convinced him that this time, the shadow of death was near.

After a few seconds though, Yeosang flippantly threw him aside and Seonghwa landed on the ice cold checkered tiles. An excruciating torture ran through his body as he felt his aching bones and joint twist, making his heart beat so fast it almost stopped. But when it calmed down, still breathless, he felt an immense relief as Seonghwa didn’t feel the chains restricting his body anymore.

It took a while before the prince noticed it was because he was back in his own skin, crouched on the floor, entirely naked. His bony hands were supporting him and tears started pooling in his eyes at their sight. Shaking he sat back on his calves, his toes curling up against each others, and took one of his hands to his chest, hesitantly running his fingers against his skin, stopping a long second above his heart, letting himself enjoy his own pulse under his fingertips.

The sun god got up, Seonghwa’s forgotten sword back in his hand and came closer, hovering above the prince, who kept his head down. Yeosang laid the sword flat between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades, carefully observing the curve of his spine against the steel, bones slightly peeking out under the shivering golden skin of the man. The god bent a knee to the floor, lowering himself to be at eye’s level with his prisoner. With the index of his free hand, Yeosang forced Seonghwa’s chin up, tilting the sword so the edge would directly press against his carotid artery.

Seonghwa kept his eyes closed, as he waited for whatever faith his god had planned for him. “I’m not killing you,” Yeosang said, to Seonghwa’s surprise. He opened his eyes, to see the unexpectedly serious face of this gold haired, child-like image of the Sun. Chocolate brown irises collided with these otherworldly eyes into a battle of stare.

Seonghwa felt helpless sitting here, like each one of his weakness were out in the open, as if Yeosang could see right through him. Being naked in front of that man who could make a toy out of him wasn’t scary, it was the feeling of his soul being sized up through this eye contact that made his guts twist and turn inside him.

Eventually, Yeosang let go of him, getting back up. “Trying to kill Wooyoung, now the _Celestial Jewel_ , what does your king want? What do you want?” He asked, imperiously looking down to him, the tip of the sword having replaced the finger under his chin.

Guilt flared up again in his stomach. “I don’t know...” He whispered pathetically, rising desperate eyes to the Sun. “I don’t know of His Highness’ schemes, I have never been told and never cared about it.”

Yeosang stayed silent for a while, appraising him. Then he lowered the sword and discarded it back aside, humming and turning around to sit in his throne of sorts.  Seonghwa crossed his arms against his chest, slouched, as the freezing draught twirling inside the room seeped into his shivering skin. “Then, why?” Yeosang spoke again. 

“This is the only way to buy freedom and,” Seonghwa cut himself off, digging nails in his flesh. “And to obtain the right to visit the fallen kingdom.”

Silence fell again upon the room, where Yeosang rested his head against the palm on his hand, watching the prince.

“The Cold Kingdom’s people were beautiful and it didn’t spare its last descendants,” he said off-handedly. Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “These soft snow locks are so rare nowadays that only a small strand of hair is considered a treasure.”

S eonghwa took a hesitant hand to his hair. “And yet rumour is we bring bad luck,” the prince murmured. He could still feel the sting of jabs about his fallen kingdom, about how ominous their mere presence were to the other kingdoms, the shivers that ran through his body every time noblemen tried to convince the king to depose of him. Seonghwa greeted his teeth, he could still feel the numbness overcoming him as he realised the king was keeping him as a pet more than  as  a prince.

“Prince Seonghwa, have you met anyone from home in all these years?” The Brightest Star asked, an enigmatic look on his face, like he was curious to see a particular reaction from Seonghwa.

He frowned. “No, I was told to be the only survivor.”

Yeosang inexplicably laughed out loud. “You’re really a gullible little thing, hm?”

The white haired man tensed, ashamed at the jab, looking away and once again crossing his arms against his bare chest, like it would protect him from this apathetic god.

“Black hair and a streak of white, does it ring a bell?”

Seonghwa startled, the small face of a young boy in a school uniform hanging at his hips and angrily screaming for him to stay appearing before his eyes. He pursed his lips together, an unpleasant taste of iron filling his mouth.

“I guess it does,” Yeosang continued, looking satisfied at his reaction. “You want to find him?” Shaking like a dry leaf mistreated by harsh weathers, the prince gazed up at the god, red rimmed eyes confusedly set on Yeosang’s face, waiting for answers. “How unfortunate that you decided to defy me, now I don’t really feel inclined to give you this. But you could always earn it,” he finished with this predatory smile of his.

Seonghwa opened his eyes wide, his heart dropping to the bottom of his stomach. He collapsed like ragged doll before the sun god.

*

San wasn’t given shoes when they started the ascent to the highest point of the volcano. The inhabitants of the capital where left at its foot, where the sacrifice festival took place, they ate, drank and sang, hoping for the appearance of the ruling dragon, while the royals and their entourage followed the priests and him on the sinuous roads.

The High Priest with poise painted on his wrinkled face was leading the march, followed by the two priestesses, all three of them walking with ease despite the steep slope. Behind them San was struggling, the sole of his feet bloodier and bloodier as they climbed, burning against the stony path, he could feel the lava boiling under him against his flesh. He could feel himself get feverish with pain, the linen clothes he was given still sticking with flowery water and sweat to his back. He felt pathetic and dirty.

The shame squeezing his heart was being amplified by the knowledge that sedan chairs were following close behind, crushing the bones of palace slaves. San’s heart was racing so hard it felt like it would stab through his ribcage because of exhaustion, and at the same time it felt numbed with horror.

The ascent was interminable.

San felt his lips get chapped with thirst drying his mouth. He knew it had to be done, he had to get through this, but his guts felt like being ripped off from the fear and the terrifying realization that this was how it felt to walk to your own death.

It felt like being watched with hungry smiles, full of sharp teeth; like going and going and going while everything in his head was screaming at him to flee, to run away while he still could. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, the same way the miserable subjects of a power hungry king couldn’t escape from this unfair faith, he just couldn’t escape from being thrown into the middle of conflicts that opposed forces that were all ten times his size.

Even if his legs were two seconds away from giving out, his feet so raw and burnt, his neck reddening under the cutting rays of sunshine, he couldn’t chose to run away and hide behind the altar of his god like he used to when he was just a small toddler, barely reaching the knees of his master, scared of all these strangers who were hunting him down with rules he couldn’t understand. He wanted to go back in time, to ignore the present, to turn a blind eye to the world and go back to kneeling behind wooden tables in a huge, familiar library pavilion where he read for whole afternoons books about the universe, sitting next to the warmth of a man who grew him like a colourful flower and watered him with gentle praises.

San closed his eyes, clenching his hands in tight fists, if all this could be a long, scary nightmare… he wanted to wake up, having fallen asleep a child in his arms while he was reading bedtime stories. To get up quietly from that bed, maybe shaken by this dream that had seemed never-ending and sit at the edge of the highest balcony of the temple to watch mermaids swim and sing lullabies to him.

But no matter how much he prayed, he was still walking this morbid path.

He felt a tear run down his cheek, his heart tightening as he thought about all the previous victims of the universe, of this cruel kingdom. San might well have spent so many hours reading the stories behind the creation of life, admired this god who had wrought out the most beautiful artwork, prayed to stars for all the deities reigning upon this two faced planet, he caught his mind being invaded with resentful thoughts on the behalf of lives lost to an unjust cycle that was bigger than all of them, mere ants in the eyes of the Sun.

It’s almost with relief that San saw after hours of climbing a small stone temple just ten or so meters away. It might have been that breathe of relief that caused his body to yield to the weight of pain and his legs dropped under him. The young disciple didn’t even notice he was laying, all bruised and dusty on the heated soil until two cold hands grasped his shoulders, a wobbly little voice whispering apologies in his ear. He was helped up, the sunlight even brighter than before, his ears made deaf by a thousand of imaginary flies buzzing around the crown of his head, and led to the open temple.

The five sedan chairs stopped and the royals and their closest entourage got out, fanning themselves with pouts that displayed such annoyance, as if they had been tired by this trip, as if they were suffering from the heat the volcano’s mouth exhaled and twirled around them all like vengeful ghosts.

San was lowered into a bow at the centre of the round temple, while the king, the crown prince and the young and tiny princess hanging at her brother’s pant legs settled on their – probably a lot more smaller, but still tastefully crafted – thrones, watching him like they would watch a play, comfortably seated and entertaining their minds. Their entourage wasn’t seated, but they watched with the same terrifying interest, standing behind their king.

The High Priest chanted new prayers to the volcano and to Wooyoung, and San – motionless – could not help the terror that invaded him as he glimpsed at all these people who looked abnormally apathetic to this entire process. The High Priest was reciting all these beautifully written words with a benevolent smile, like he was blessing San. The two priestesses were standing with almost unnoticeable frown on their delicate faces, but not because of this ceremony. It was because San had the fortune of being one of their peers. They were hurting for him because of all the cuts and wounds on his body, not because they couldn’t stand to see it on the other people they had served like meat, but because they knew this was the starting point of changing – perhaps for worse – world.

San understood: they were used to it. They were used to these atrocious acts.

The voices in his head that had whispered and yelled at him to run while his hands weren’t tied, all stopped. He put his palms flat on his lap. The way he had imagined life, coveted in the water realm was wrong all along: life wasn’t all beauty, imbalance wasn’t without damage, giving life back to Earth wasn’t a gentle process. It was just defenceless people having no choice but to agree to be a victim of the greater good.

_So, this is the infamously peaceful golden kingdom_ , San thought, looking up to the azure sky.

When San was made to get up again, being carried up and down so repetitively it made him even dizzier. The old priest walked forward, following a long bamboo carpet that spread out a path from the temple to the edge of the this dreadful cliff. However he did not go all the way, stopping and stepping to the side, obviously encouraging San to take the lead to his death. Surrounded by the two gentle priestesses only a step behind, he somehow tried to walk eyes staring straight ahead, head raised high on his shoulders, his bloody feet assured. Only when he knew they were far enough, he pretended to trip and the two priestesses rushed to him, helping him up.

Discreetly, the tallest one, chest against his arm, her shoulder hiding their ploy took the pouch from her robe and slipped it in his hands. It only took three seconds, before they had all straightened up, as if nothing at all had happened.

A few steps later, just five or so meters away from the steaming edge of the gorge, the two priestess stepped aside and stood head’s down, letting him continue alone.

Hands gathered against his chest, gripping between his shaky fingers the silk, so hard if it was any normal pouch probably that it would have ripped. When San took his last step before the jump, not daring to look down, he let out a broken sob he didn’t even know he had been holding back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he started repeating to himself with a thick and trembling voice. He barely had memories from his childhood before he was taken to the Sun’s temple, but the noise of boiling lava exploding inside the volcano, the feeling of an angry force, chaotic and ready to destroy everything took him back to his last day at his family’s side. He hiccuped, pierced by fear induced needles all over his body.

Closing his eyes, he clutched the jewel again. And jumped.

The fall crushed his bones and guts, it was fast, and hot. It felt like it would never end and for a few agonisingly long seconds, minutes, perhaps even hours he thought his heart stopped beating even though it was beating so fast in his chest, it almost spilled out his mouth. He grasped at the pouch like his life depended on it – and it did.

A Loud and impressive – even louder than the whistle of the steam inside his ears – roar rumbled inside the pit. And suddenly, he landed on a solid surface and felt himself going up. All the oxygen in his lungs left with the shock of his head slamming against the muscular and scaly body of the dragon. Opening his eyes, lashes wet from tears he hadn't known had spilled, he breathed out a sign of relief.

The deity flew them in a cave hidden inside the walls of the volcano's crater. Without really processing what was happening, soul hovering above his body, he wasn't lying on the dragon's back anymore, but being carried in strong arms and then gently put down on the floor. The priest tried to stand up, in vain, his knees collapsing under him. But the same strong arms embraced his waist and kept him up, pressed against a hard chest.

After a short moment, he got out of Wooyoung's arms, still shaking like a leaf, but aware enough to stare at the deity.

"This is for you. From the Sun. To keep it safe." San whispered, softly taking one of the dragon turned man's hands and flattening the pouch against his palm.

San barely had time to see Wooyoung open his eyes wide with a confused glance that San, probably out of exhaustion, crushed under the weight of a body ruined by multiple lunar rotations spent in hunger, thirst, broken bones and bloody limbs; probably overwhelmed with so much raw power surrounding him, felt his tongue choke him and his eyes roll back inside his skull, and fainted.

At the tip of the fire mountain, royals were drinking with pleasure painted on their face the most exquisite wines under the blank eyes of the disciples of the Sun, when a humongous dragon with emerald-green mixed with ruby-red obsidian scales emerged from the crater of the volcano spreading a deafening silence on the crowd, gently laying San before them and resting threatening eyes on the king.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) i tried to mix different types of religions i know in this made up religion, because i didn't want to force completely eurocentric aesthetics into my fic, but i did want to separate this universe from the real one, anyways. ethnicity, religion, culture, etc is not the same as the ones on our actual earth, even if of course inspired by them. 
> 
> 2) which kind of leads us to the last names. no one has one. it's also because seonghwa and san turned out to be brothers and well! they don't have the same last name. i changed last names with titles (you can see it with the way the high priest.esse.s are called i guess, the titles refer to family or land owned, so the wealthy usually are the ones to have titles. 
> 
> 3) while writing my first chapter i realised our time system could Not work, so i had a massive breakdown before i finally figured a way to make something that look at least a bit coherent. so basically :  
> \- earth has one side always facing the sun, which basically means that it spins on itself once a year (the time it take to rotate around the sun), so this is a year. i've decided to call it like we do because i am : lazy  
> \- a month is a lunar cycle, inspired by the real lunar calendar except that well, it's not the same bc for the people of this fic the moon never changes forms. so i have decided it's determined by moon's proximity to earth. also a month is called a lunar cycle  
> \- a day is a lunar rotation (around earth), it has 24 hours but they don't count it like that, they divide it half with the lunar hours (daytime, when the moon is on the earth realm's side) and the sleeping hours (night-time, when the moon's on the water realm's side). and then hours are determined depending on moon's placement in the sky.  
> \- hours, minutes and seconds are otherwise the same.  
> did all that make sense, scientifically wise? absolutely not and i probably made cry some scientific minds! but i'm sure it looked scientific enough for most of u that i lost u enough for u to decide u will give me the benefit of the doubt!!
> 
> Thank u for reading, i hope u will keep enjoying my fic. join me on twitter : @420soupluvr69


End file.
